


Later

by wneleh



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Gen, bad physics, indifferent chemistry, worse biology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 20:19:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11043588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wneleh/pseuds/wneleh
Summary: Later, when someone’s heard a bit of what he and Link went through during the Great Solar Event and starts asking questions, Rhett will laugh a little and say, “Yeah, our butts got handed to us by an unpropitious commingling of physics, chemistry, and biology.”





	Later

**Author's Note:**

> None of this is real, especially the science.

Later, when the Great Solar Event comes up, Rhett will try to redirect the conversation.

When this doesn’t work – when someone’s heard a bit of what he and Link went through, and starts asking questions - he’ll laugh a little and say, “Yeah, our butts got handed to us by an unpropitious commingling of physics, chemistry, and biology.” 

What Rhett doesn’t describe: 

How excited – how positively giddy – he’d been when it was announced that Earth was in for a solar event expected to produce an aurora visible as far south as Mexico City.

How disappointed he’d been when the all-night light show the rest of country – the rest of the world, it felt like - was seeing, was distorted by LA smog into nothing more than illuminated haze. “It’s spectacular – you’ve got to get a proper look before it ends,” Jessie’d said, calling from her parents’ house in North Carolina, pausing from packing for their return flight that afternoon. “The kids can’t stop talking about it.”

That had been the final straw – that his sons were experiencing something he was denying himself, and for what? 

It took very little convincing to get Link to agree to close the office early, to throw their gear into the back of Rhett’s sedan and head east, past Barstow, past Baker and beyond Hollow Hills, seeking the perfect perch from which to witness the interaction of the Earth’s atmosphere and magnetic field with the largest ejection of electrons from the sun in over a century. 

\- - - - - 

Later, Rhett will say that he’d grabbed the pepper spray because they were in rattlesnake and coyote country. He won’t volunteer that he’d noticed three or four human figures silhouetted near their destination. It’s then that he remembers the spray and tucks it into a pocket, double-checking its accessibility.

The walk uphill goes quickly – they’re in the best shape of their adult lives – and by the time the sun is setting they’re seated on a low boulder, watching a small plane cross the horizon, waiting for something to happen as the further hills fade from view, as the growing dim scrubs the desert of all detail…

“Do you remember how to get back to the car?” Link asks. 

\- - - - -

Rhett’s never able to completely order the events of the next few moments – the sudden brightening of the sky with streaks of green, red, blue, blazing white - the feeling of eminent lightning, the small plane starting to nose downward, downward – shouts in Spanish – shouts from very, very near – the plane’s descent accelerating – more shouts…

Rising to his feet, some instinct leading his hand to the pepper spray…

The impact of the plane into the dry wash below them – maybe a half-mile away, maybe five miles – a fire ball starting to rise, followed by an awful, low rumble – stepping back – tripping – taking the fall on his elbows… 

Fluid in his face, in his eyes and his mouth, burning, burning, filling his lungs as he cries out… 

Link calling for help, Link’s hands trying to peel his own hands from his eyes…

Water running over his hands, over his forehead…

“You’re wasting water, mister!” An accented voice.

Other hands tearing his from his face, and now water hitting his eyelids….

“Open your eyes, mister,” but that wasn’t going to happen.

A cloth against his face, sweat and Axe and french fries…

More water, the cloth again…

Finally being able to draw enough breath to cough…

\- - - - -

Later, he cannot recall the precise moment when he remembers that Jessie, and Christy, and all of their children, are headed back this evening. What time were their flights? WHAT TIME?

He doesn’t know.

“Check your phone, Link,” he pleads. “When are their…”

He can’t say it.

“Solar EMP I think,” says Link. “Phones are dead.”

\- - - - -

He still can’t open his eyes, but he can walk, with Link on one side and a kid who sounds like he’s from East LA on the other. His elbows hurt, his right ankle isn’t stable, his throat and eyes are in agony, but he can breathe now.

Link and the kid, and two or three other boys, are talking, and it turns out one of the kid’s an expert on solar EMPs – or at least he’s read the Wiki page, damn it Rhett meant to do that but everyone had been saying that this sort of solar storm wouldn’t produce one…

Link’s letting his hick accent come out, maybe trying to out-townie the kids. A weird choice and Rhett would call him on it if Rhett trusted himself to talk. But actually forming words… seems dangerous.

Rhett will never be able to explain this. 

It’s ten steps, or a hundred, to where the boys have set up camp. This time he stays still while more water is poured over his face; how much of their total supply are they using on him? 

“I think that’s enough,” Link says. “Let’s get this shit off his hands now. His eyes will cleanse themselves.”

\- - - - - -

Link hands him what feels like a cup. “Bug juice,” he says. “You need the sugar. Drink up.”

So he does.

\- - - - - 

Without asking, Link raids his pockets for his keys. “The car probably won’t start, but a couple of the guys are going to go get our gear.”

“Who are they?” he whispers.

“AP Physics field trip,” Link replies. “Their teacher’s with the girls in the class, about a mile east. The other chaperone headed to the crash site, so these kids are on their own.”

Too much detail. Rhett keeps his eyes closed and tries to control his breathing and wishes he trusted Link’s character judging skills more.

“What’s wrong with him?” asks a kid. “Ain’t he ever been pepper sprayed before?”

“Not to my knowing,” says Link, still talking hick. Then, “Our families are flying in from back east today.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

\- - - - - -

“I wish you’d open your eyes,” Link says. “The aurora’s pretty spectacular.”

\- - - - - -

“Your car started!” a boy proclaims, “but I didn’t think you’d want us driving around, in the dark, with no GPS.” Pause. “Plus I don’t have a license.”

So they can leave…

“The oldest of these kids is 17. I want to hang around until their group gets itself back together,” Link whispers to him.

Rhett doesn’t answer.

\- - - - - -

It’s his tent, his sleeping bag, they’ve even carried his pillow up. “Your pillow but not mine,” says Link. Then, “So we’re sharing.” It feels like Link has unzipped the sleeping bag so that they can use it as a blanket; there’s nothing between their backs and the tent floor. But the ground is sandy here; it’s really not that awful.

Later, Rhett can’t remember falling asleep, but he does remember waking.

His eye work now; they hardly sting at all. He crawls over Link and out of the tent. There are three other small tents in their clearing; nobody else is stirring, though. There’s a two-gallon container of water, and a few plastic cups lying around, so he uses the cleanest and takes a sip, and then another, as he watches a man and two teenage boys hike toward him.

He can carry on a conversation when it’s put to him. He’s pretty sure.

“Hi,” he manages.

But then Link’s there, and talking like a normal human being (the hick accent subsiding by the third sentence) – this is the group that went to investigate the crash site. No survivors. Three charred bodies.

Rhett has no idea why he isn’t vomiting.

Three charred bodies.

“Our families were flying yesterday evening,” says Link.

“I wish I knew more about EMPs,” says the chaperone. “Their physics teacher, Ms. Muniz, is with the girls.” 

Rhett looks up then, scans the sky. No sign of planes, no contrails.

“Maybe they’re just playing it safe,” says one of the new kids.

\- - - - - - 

They get lost trying to find their car; when they absolutely need to tell the story of this night, Rhett will tease Link about him not having a sense of direction, and Link will complain about having to bear half Rhett’s weight.

Rhett thinks that they could have come up with something better, wishes they’d given it some thought. 

\- - - - - -

It isn’t until they’re on 127 and start encountering oncoming vehicles that Rhett’s brain seems to re-emerge from wherever it’s been hiding.

Rhett doesn’t know what he says that gives it away, but once it sinks in with Link that Rhett’s now firing on all (well, let’s be fair here, most) cylinders, Link pulls over and has a mini-breakdown of his own, right on the shoulder of the roadway, which isn’t the smartest thing he’s ever done, Rhett has to point out.

Link tells Rhett to go to hell, and Link still won’t let him drive.

\- - - - - - -

A half-hour after they’ve started driving, a few miles short of Baker, the radio’s static turns to news – there are massive power outages, there’s martial law in major cities throughout the world, there have been a few general aviation mishaps leading to all flights being grounded please-call-your-airline-for-information… but commercial airliners didn’t fall out of the sky.

Link pulls over and has another breakdown.

Later, when they have to, they’ll say that eventually Rhett’s ankle felt better, and he took over driving.

* * * THE END * * *

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be my prepper!Rhett story...


End file.
